Damnatio memoriae
by poeticjustice22
Summary: During the Battle of Hogwarts, Ginny is separated from the rest of her friends and family and is captured by a small group of Death Eaters, led by none other than Lucius Malfoy. AU. Mature/dark themes.
1. Caught

Ginny screamed helplessly.

Dust and rubble filled the air, blinding her surroundings. She panted in pain and from exhaustion, stumbling across fallen bricks and torn-up wooden pillars from the ceiling, bodies of students and Death Eaters alike lying scattered underneath them. Shakily she breathed in the sickening air of death, eyes stinging and watering.

 _So much death_.

She had lost sight of Neville and Luna along the way, and had glimpses of Harry, Ron and Hermione running to and fro, only hoping and praying they had a plan and had not been stopped or killed in the process. Moments ago, her parents had been seen helping some of the other Order members getting the younger students and the wounded into safety, and she had followed the twins as they gave the Death Eaters hell together with Lee Jordan. In midst of the chaos the three of them had lost sight of Fred, and George had screamed his name as he and Lee battled a fuming Yaxley who forced them further and further away. The next second, an ear-deafening explosion shook the castle, spewing debris and screams, and Ginny was thrown backwards, landing by a shadowed wall of a nearby corridor, unseen. When she came to again, she realized she had been separated from the group and that her right trouser leg had been sliced open along her thigh; a long, painful cut that seared through her entire being with every step she took.

Tears threatened to spill from the corner of her eyes, but crying was useless. She _had_ to focus and try and find the others instead.

She hobbled forwards.

Suddenly two strong arms clamped around her from behind, using the moment of distraction to snatch her wand, and pulled her backwards and away from the main fighting area. She screamed and flailed, struggling against the iron hold of her captor. Unfortunately, she was practically out of sight and sound of the distracting activities at the other end of the now ruined hallway where clouds of dust, smoke and pillars obscured much of the view.

A hand came up to cover her mouth, instantly silencing the scream lurching from her throat, and she was pulled into a darkened alcove, her back pressed against a tall, sturdy body. For a miniscule second, her panicked senses were struck by the masculine scent of expensive cologne and natural musk that enveloped her, and she thrashed within her captor's hold which instantly tightened again as she attempted to bite the hand covering her mouth.

"Don't bother, girl. I cast a _Cave inimicum_ to avoid any inconvenient interruption," came a rich, drawling voice near her ear, promptly warning her off any sort of resistance.

 _That voice…_

Ginny's eyes widened.


	2. Unmasked

_Malfoy_.

 _Lucius_ fucking _Malfoy_.

It was as if a bucket of burning ice had been dumped over her head.

 _How_? How was it possible he was _here_? Wouldn't he be off somewhere, trying to find his family and flee the battle with his tail between his legs like a _true_ Malfoy?

She wriggled within his stronghold, instinctively trying to create a distance between their bodies, but it only prompted him to press her entire length against him more firmly, one arm wrapped like an iron bar around her waist. He tutted dramatically in her ear, ignoring the demonstrative way she reared her head away from his mouth.

"Your feistiness will serve you no purpose here, girl. Your little friends can't help you now. Be still and don't even _think_ of trying anything. You would not like to suffer the consequences."

She stilled her movements; her heart beating so hard within her chest she thought it would burst from her ribs at any second.

His sure grip was tight to the point of painful around her slender body but so far he didn't do anything to harm her. Surely, he would just have killed her by now, if that's what he wanted.

 _Right?_

With a stuttering breath, she tried to center and calm herself despite every nerve in her body was painfully aware of the dangerous presence behind her; the rise and fall of a broad chest, long, muscular thighs pressing into hers, his warm breath against her temple, wafting down her neck.

Air was robbed from her lungs when he suddenly started pulling her away from the alcove, dragging her down a vaguely familiar path through the castle and further and further away from her friends and family. Any attempt of struggle was overpowered by a set of powerful hands clamping around her biceps, waist or hips, effectively preventing her from darting out of his hold at any point. When she tried opening her mouth and scream for help, she found, much to her shock, that he had put a wordless Silencing Charm on her. Together with the previous spell, it rendered them perfectly unnoticeably to anyone who should happen to come across them.

Ginny felt her heart sink with the realization and though she held herself rigid in fear and apprehension against her captor, some of her fight left her body. Whether Malfoy noticed or not, she couldn't tell, as he guided them, with determined steps, from one corridor to another until she realized where he had led them.

The Library.

 _Of all places._

He muttered something under his breath and the door opened to his command.

"You got her?" an oily voice rang out from within.


	3. Helpless

As she was dragged inside, Ginny whipped her head to where the voice had come from, her eyes widening by what met them: Four unknown individuals occupied the Library, standing in the center and waiting impatiently. Quickly scanning their ragged appearances, she surmised they were most likely low-ranking Death Eaters or possibly Snatchers.

Malfoy merely scoffed from behind her, pulling her along as they ventured further inside the room, _despite_ Ginny's vehement attempts to dig her heels into the ground and physically stave off the action. She had absolutely no desire to get any closer to the occupants of the room, dreading what was about to happen. Malfoy cursed lowly under his breath as she practically bucked and spun within his embrace, but it was to no avail. He was far stronger than her and there was a threatening presence in his grip that warned her off trying that again.

She whimpered faintly as she was hauled in front of the awaiting group. Their faces were sallow and stubbly, set in grim expressions, marking their ages as less determinable. They shot Ginny ogling glares before looking in various degrees of expectancy and skepticism towards Lucius, who presumably was the leader of the group.

"So, _Malfoy_. What now?" One of them spoke up, something in his voice that sent chills down Ginny's spine. "Shall we take turns on her?" The scrawny man turned his eyes towards her, a nasty smile forming on his lips. "See what makes her crack?"

For a second, Ginny felt physically ill.

" _No_ ," Malfoy bore down on the company with icy finality, "you shall _not_." There was no doubt about the authority in his voice and yet, Ginny wasn't entirely sure how safe she should feel about the intent behind his words.

A collection of protests buzzed among the group but was once again squashed by Malfoy who had stepped up beside her, granting Ginny a full view of the silver-haired wizard for the first time since… well, a long time. She was not surprised to see the effects of Azkaban lingering around the otherwise so proud and vain Malfoy patriarch. His impeccable countenance was disheveled, patience teetering towards exhaustion, and though that confident posture clearly had taken a beating he made an effort to keep his trademark sneer and intimidating aloofness in place. _Or_ it simply came naturally to him.

" _Enough_. You want to convey to the Dark Lord himself that the prize _he_ granted _me_ was so carelessly treated, hm?" The petrified silence that followed seemed to answer the rather rhetorical question. "No? I didn't think so," he bit out with baleful mastery, and Ginny guessed by the ticking of his aristocratic jaw that he was growing increasingly low on tolerance with the lackeys, or whatever they were, as they fidgeted under his glare, downtrodden and disgruntled.

She, on the other hand, didn't know whether to feel relieved or _more_ apprehensive by his words.

 _His 'prize'? Granted by Voldemort? Why?_

What could Malfoy possibly want with _her_?

She side-eyed him in suspicion but he studiously ignored her, instead shifting the topic towards the current situation downstairs in a clipped, but pressing tone. He continued to relay some changes of strategy; his words much too roundabout for her to follow, and was immediately met by objections. Ginny stood oddly aside, anxiously awaiting her fate and positively _hating_ her own helplessness.

Her eyes were automatically drawn to Malfoy's form, which – despite his somewhat immaculate alteration – still held a fearsome presence in the room. Watching his subtle, but growing exasperation with the group during their back-and-forth, she momentarily wondered why he attended present company since none of them seemed to be among the infamous crowd of Pureblood elitists that he usually hung around with. In fact, they seemed far below anything a _Malfoy_ would ever choose to interact with. Had he been degraded? However, that seemed at odds with his earlier announcement of having been granted her as a 'prize' (she gagged at the thought) by Voldemort himself, didn't it? Perhaps he had grown tired of his former 'group' of individuals and gone rogue?

Her attention swerved. Somewhere along the line, the conversation had turned to her once more.

"I have no intention of doing so," Lucius answered in a low, tight voice to an unknown question. "This is simply how the Dark Lord would want us to prepare ourselves for, in case the Order comes looking for her."

"So? Why not ruffle her pretty feathers a bit before then?" one particularly ghoulish-looking Death Eater scoffed in an Irish brogue, gesturing towards Ginny. "Show her _exactly_ how a prize such as her is treated by your 'Graciousness'?"

Her blood chilled at what he was insinuating.


	4. Unprotected

"She's but a girl. A _child_ ," Malfoy scoffed, haughty features glazed in cold disdain, refusing to look at her, unlike the Death Eater who let his beady eyes roam her body and made her skin crawl.

"I see no child or girl," the Death Eater smirked. "She's obviously of age, isn't she? Despite the treacherous Weasley-blood running in her veins, she's quite the looker, am I right?" His brethren sniggered and she visibly flinched under their unmistaken stares. "Well, I, for one, wouldn't mind having a go at her. See how she felt, ya know? I always wondered." He made a lewd gesture and got a couple of extra laughs.

Another one responded with a sound of disgust though he still seemed fairly _disturbingly_ entertained by her current dire circumstances. "I bet that Potter kid has already been there more than a few times. I'd rather kiss an Acromantula than touch any of his filthy leftovers! Blood-traitorous scum!" He shuddered with exaggerated gusto and the others chuckled salaciously.

"We'll have none of that now, Roscoe. Cavanaugh." Lucius' smooth drawl addressed them both as if he was merely placating a couple of minors for inappropriate behavior. Despite the mask of indifference, there was a distinct note of warning in his voice that made the sniggering pipe down immediately.

While Ginny had no intention of disagreeing with them on the matter of her age, given the precarious situation and utter nitpicking of the subject, she was surprised how their words struck her in the moment. The fact that they actually discussed _raping_ her only made her feel oddly numb; as if her body was mentally warding itself from breaking down or go into hysterics. Instead, her mind latched on to those two words.

 _Girl. Child._

If this was _truly_ to be her end, she felt mileages from the girl she had once been before Voldemort and Lucius chose to insert themselves in her life with that bloody diary! Back when the biggest worries she had in life were not mucking it up in front of Harry and somehow getting a foothold within professional Quidditch one day.

But she was not that girl anymore. She wasn't _gone_ , but… that girl had gone through so much, Ginny wondered if she'd ever return the same.

 _But I_ am _practically a child!_ a naïve, protective part of her mind protested. _They wouldn't_ really _harm me… Would they?_

Another part vehemently balked at the idea of identifying with such a crude term; stubborn anger coursing through her body, surprising her.

 _No. No, I am no longer a mere child._

Her brow furrowed at the peculiar feeling of pain, as if she was shedding a skin too early but out of necessity, followed by a sense of melancholy.

And then, oddly enough, also… _strength_.

Unconsciously, she straightened her back and squared off her shoulders; her surroundings coming into clear view again as her battered head regained a couple of ounces of energy. Her eyes focused in on the haggard, leering faces around her. Taking a deep, controlled breath through her nose and clenching her teeth, her mind frantically analyzed the situation.

 _OK, Gin, OK. You can do this. Five. They're five. Five against one. OK, odds aren't good. Escape routes? Two. Both blocked. And no one can hear us here. No one knows I'm here. Even if someone is already looking for me, there's no knowing how long it'd take before they eventually look here, much less will be able to break in and not get everyone killed in doing so._

 _Shit._

 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_

She hated herself for saying it, but she _had_ to play along; drag it out a little while longer, whatever Malfoy's intentions were.

As she debated with herself, she was aware of the loaded, sneering attentions of the Library's occupants directed towards her as they quarreled about how to go about the outcome of her captivity along with everything else. She had zoned out of whatever they were discussing.

However, _one_ pair of eyes remained consistent, prickling her senses more than the others.

Chancing a look to her right, she discovered, to her horror, that _Malfoy_ had turned his head infinitesimally in her direction. And though it was an understatement to say she had _ever_ enjoyed his particular gaze, she felt even more ill at ease with the one he was currently regarding her with. There was something in that grey cold boring into her; almost as if he hadn't bothered to take the time to properly notice her before, and now, suddenly, had found something worth exploring.


	5. Surveyed

She shivered, feeling like a deer caught under a predator's hypnotizing stare; hard silver pools dancing across her face and form with barely concealed fascination. Almost as if he could see right through her… read her thoughts…

Was it possible?

Could he be a _Legilimens_?

There was so little she knew about him. He was a deeply unpleasant man, for sure, and she was roughly aware of his Pureblood values, but she'd also scoffed at the blatant arrogance and sense of superiority that resided within the Malfoy family and perhaps underrated the level of intelligence among them. Especially Lucius. She had simplified her view of him over the years, collected from outside prejudice against his family, and never taken the time to even _consider_ if his motivations might be more complex than they appeared.

Actually, when she thought about it, he was far too unpredictable, and she wasn't _at all_ sure how to read him. He didn't seem as batshit crazy like some Death Eaters, like Bellatrix, but that didn't mean he wasn't deranged in his convictions. His actions, so far, at least, confirmed it.

Still, was his allegiance with Voldemort grounded in personal pride and self-importance, ideological convictions or even fear of himself and his family's safety?

Perhaps a bit of everything?

Ginny silently balked. Was she really standing here, a foot away from a sadistic supremacist, contemplating his motives of behavior? Was she actually trying to find sympathy for this man?!

Her throat constricted in repulsion.

Yet, she _still_ couldn't let go of the thought now that it had been planted in her head: What if Lucius' intentions _had_ shifted after his time in Azkaban? Oh, he'd probably be just as egotistical in his motives as before, but… perhaps he had–

 _No._ She berated herself for even _thinking_ it.

Her defiance hadn't quite left her and she glared back at him in what quickly became a silent battle of wills that, unfortunately, only seemed to spark his interest further, his head angling towards her.

She was granted a hint of that same elusive smile, usually born of pure arrogance, now more secretive and tilted in a curious curve. Still, she wasn't so sure those curved lips didn't hide a forked tongue.

A frisson of nervousness prickled under her skin, and she finally veered her eyes away from Malfoy. His attention was stifling.

Gnawing on her lip, her eyes flickered toward the rest of the company who was amidst regaling some sordid tale of a particularly ghoulish raid against an unwitting Muggle family; some laughing in crude relish, while others simply looked bored and disturbingly unaffected.

Ginny silently railed at herself for not having Hermione's studious nature, then she might have read up on the followers of Voldemort beforehand and gained _some_ kind of advantage if ever caught in a situation such as this. Something she could use against them. It seemed ludicrous, she knew, to even expect such knowledge would ever get her out of her present, critical circumstances: She was painfully outnumbered and knew none of the other Death Eaters. Would this turn physical? Or was there more psychological torture involved? Malfoy might seem a wizard more prone to the latter.

And while the threat of rape lay prickling like thick air between them, she felt _he_ had 'at least' put his foot down concerning the subject. For now. Who knew if he had similar intentions himself once he had claimed her as a prize, whatever _that_ meant.

She forced her breathing to slow down, though her pulse was at a steady gallop, heart thumbing along in her ears.

As far as she knew, the elder Malfoy was still married to Narcissa, though she had no idea how they fared as a couple. Wizarding 'royalty' such as they weren't exactly known for heartwarming marriages based on love and companionship. It was all about status and benefits. She was pretty sure the Malfoys were tradition-bound in that case. But they only had one child, and the dire fate of Draco was still in the hands of Voldemort. Perhaps Lucius wasn't merely fearing for his only off-spring but for the survival of his entire lineage altogether?

She paled at the thought, preposterous as it was, as it was slowly forming. _He-he wouldn't- he couldn't –_

Was _that_ Voldemort's 'gift' to him? Was that his plan? Securing the pureblooded ancestry of his second-most loyal follower in _any_ case; however Draco's fate should be determined?

Her eyes slid back to the mercurial gaze boring into hers.

Or was it _his_?


End file.
